Twelve White Stones
by Eilun
Summary: Salazar Slytherin has been looking for his soul mate for as long as he can remember. Now that he's found him, he will do anything to keep him, anything at all. Poor Harry. Slash HP/SS, Time travel,AU.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: Slash...and I'm still not sure how graphic it will get. This story also has time travel and is pretty AU.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...shocker, I know...

* * *

It began as it usually does. With magic.

A single figure slipped gracefully off a dark horse, his feet hitting the packed dirt with a thud that reverberated through the lonely silence of the highway. A feeling of expectancy hung in the air. Even the stars seemed to watching on this night.

A wind blew as he walked to the edge of the road, tangling the man's dark cloak, but the trees around him stood eerily still.

He leaned over now. Peering into the dark ditch that lined the road.

For a moment the world seemed to hold it's breath, listening carefully.

And something spoke. Answering the wild call of the world with an energy of it's own. Filling up the silence with a deep dark magic, that resided in the man.

Saying quite simply, _This is it._

***

Salazar was nervous. It was not a feeling he was accustom to and certainly not one he enjoyed. This was the most important moment of his life, and he had very little solid information to work with. It was discouraging.

All his magic would tell him was that this....boy, this strange creature of white skin and dark sable hair, was it.

The One.

What he, Salazar Slytherin, had spent most of his life searching for.

It was not that he didn't appreciate knowing at least that much, but he wouldn't mind knowing some details as well.

A few questions did spring to mind.

Idly, he nudged the child with his toe. The boy didn't so much as stir. Salazar grunted in approval. This would give him a chance to inspect his soon-to-be-husband more closely.

The man-child was small, and far, far too thin. He didn't look like he was starving. Not yet anyways. If the boy missed any more meals he'd be there.

A pert nose adorned his narrow face, along with small pouty lips and unattractively high cheekbones. Perhaps the cheekbones wouldn't be so startling if the child was anything other than a bag of bones, but it was simply too soon to tell.

The only other defect was a zigzagged scar across his forehead, but perhaps that could be healed.

He was not a handsome boy. That much was clear. His face was too alien, too fragile for that. Nor was he lithe and effeminate like most of the men that Slytherin had taken to his bed. This young man was definitely not pretty enough for that.

And yet, the face held Salazar's attention. Pretty, Salazar mused he most definitely was not. But interesting, arresting even, he most certainly was.

Salazar rocked back on his heels, with a small smile. He would choose interesting over beautiful any day.

A closer look at his boy, for the boy was his now, caused Salazar's smile to disappear. His young man was filthy. Dirt was encrusted in his hair, on his cheek and buried deep in his nails.

Salazar would not choose dirty over clean.

Ever.

Cleanliness was next to Godliness. Anyone who wasn't an idiot (or Godric) knew that.

Still it was doubtful that this was an accurate reflection of the boys preference for personal hygiene.

After all he was lying in a ditch.

Unconscious.

And from the looks of it, he had been robbed.

It was slightly troubling to Salazar that the perspective father of his children wasn't a strong enough wizard to fend off a few ruffians. He most certainly would not abide squibs for children. Salazar made a mental note to look into power enhancing potions when he returned home. It was true they were dangerous, but it's not as though _he_ would be taking them.

Though really he was getting ahead of himself here. Salazar shook his head in wry amusement. He was acting like a child with a new toy, leaping to all sorts of wild conclusions without any real proof.

It was just as likely that his fiance did have power and was just too much of an idiot to use it wisely.

Both thoughts were disturbing.

With another brisk shake of his head Salazar banished his flights of fancy and focused at what must be done. For one, the delinquents that had done this would have to be dealt with. Someone had harmed what was his. They would be made to pay. It was as uncomplicated as that. The fact that an hour ago no one, not even Salazar himself, had known that the boy was his was immaterial. Punishment would be absolute.

Sighing, Salazar put aside visions of violence and retribution. Revenge would simply have to wait. He had more important matters to attend to. Like getting his almost-husband out of a ditch.

* * *

Author's note: Hi!...wow, now that I've finally finished this chapter I can't think of anything to write...umm...I guess all of you should know that my chapters will all be fairly short, I am sorry about that, but my inspiration seems to come in small jolts and it's best not to force it. I will try to update at least every two weeks, but that might change when my school starts up. Thank you all for reading, it's exciting to know people even click on my story, let alone go through it all.

If you could review that would be fantastic!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine...so sad...

Warning: Slash, AU after 4th book, Time travel

Thanks to breuddwydioxz for agreeing to be my beta. I appreciate all your hard work!

* * *

Twelve white stones lay in Salazar's hand, gleaming as he gazed impatiently at the setting sun.

Only when the whole world seemed to be veiled in twilight did Salazar snap to attention, moving forward to create a circle with the stones that would encompass his makeshift camp and his boy.

He stopped only once amid his work to whisper softly over the stones. The words that came from his lips seemed to drop like lead, and as they fell the air around them rippled.

Then Salazar straightened, wiping his hands. The magick was over now and the real work began.

***

It took over half an hour for Salazar to set up his camp.

Had Slytherin been anything less than exact about...everything, the work might have been completed sooner, but as it was, all things had to be made perfect before Salazar could rest.

Which meant that by the time he was finished Salazar had the fire was crackling at precisely the right height, temperature and color. Anything less would have been doused. All sticks and rocks had been _accioed_ clear of the area, and the ground had been transfigured smooth. In fact the only thing that Salazar had not managed to transform perfectly were the bedrolls.

And they would have been, except that Salazar's boy seemed to be a rather anxious sleeper. Already his blankets were twisted around him, sweat dripping from his pale brow. Occasionally soft whimpers came from his creased lips.

It troubled Salazar that his fiance's rest could still be disturbed, even under the heavy influence of so many potent potions. And it was stranger still that not all of his agitation came from the child's inconceivable ability to fight his potions. Salazar found that he did not enjoy his boy being uncomfortable.

One could say it upset him.

How very odd.

It did not help Salazar's unease that every time he looked at the young man his gut tingled unpleasantly. It was a feeling that Salazar rarely got but always heeded, and right now he was taking it very seriously indeed.

After all, the few facts that Salazar had managed to acquire about his husband-to-be did not add up. The child was injured and maltreated, yet powerful enough to fight Salazar's potions. He was dressed in little more than rags, but wore spectacles of fine metal and well blown glass.

And his nightmares could put even Salazar's to shame.

Something was not right here, and Salazar would do well to pay careful attention.

Eying the tossing form warily Salazar put the finishing touches on his merrily brewing soup. Carrots already bobbed to the surface, and small pieces of meat could be seen through the clear broth, but there was one more vital ingredient still missing. Reaching under his surcoat Salazar pulled out a small vial and quickly, without a single twinge from his conscience, poured the sweet smelling liquid in.

The soup frothed for a moment, turning an ominous shade of green before reverting back to its former appearance. Using the small wooden spoon in the cauldron, Salazar leaned forward and delicately sampled his fare.

He stilled, contemplating the taste and then wrinkled his nose in displeasure.

With a surge of self recrimination Salazar realized his mistake. The yew and blue cohosh that worked as a base in his potion had strong and unpleasant flavors; he had known this and yet had not thought to mask their flavors.

Salazar was suddenly relieved that his own father had not lived to see this particular mistake. Salazar's shame alone would have made the encounter unpleasant, but his father's punishment would have been equally distasteful. His father would have berated Salazar for allowing his emotions to interfere with his potion making; he would have ridiculed Salazar for his nerves.

His scorn, Salazar thought bitterly, would have been well placed.

Allowing his worries and fears to influence him had almost caused Salazar to make a dangerous mistake. It would not do for the herbs' tastes to show through that of the stew's. Not if his young man was smart enough to recognize the potion.

And it was imperative that he did not.

Whatever came next would change Salazar's life in ways he was only now starting to imagine. He intended to make sure those changes were to his advantage.

Rummaging again through his surcoat Salazar found a small packet of herbs and began sedately pouring them in.

***

Harry awoke to the smell of cooking meat.

For a moment he just lay there, savoring the aroma and pretending rather fiercely that the scent alone could fill his empty stomach. Then he shook his head a little, chasing out the imaginings and half remembered nightmares that clouded his mind. Smells never fed people, but sometimes the Dursleys did. If he was lucky maybe today would be one of those days.

With a sigh Harry opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again.

He wasn't at the Dursley's. He wasn't at Hogwarts either. Judging from the patch of dusky sky he had just gotten an eyeful of, Harry would say he was outside. He was also going to guess that this was a not-good-thing.

Eyes still closed Harry breathed, one slow breath and then another. Cleansing breathing, that's the ticket. And carefully, gingerly, Harry tried to catalog how he was feeling.

Mostly not good.

Not being at the Dursley's when he was suppose to be was, while a frequent day dream, also an indicator of bad things to come. Or, if the memories that were only now starting to surface were of any use, the bad things had already come.

And gone.

And trampled on Harry with a herd of hippogriffs.

They were only vague flashes, these memories, muddled by sleep, confusion, and a hazy unreal quality that Harry thought was probably shock. Still, certain facts resonated within Harry, forming solid truths that he could face. Like the fact that Voldemort had broken through the Dursley's wards.

The "how" of this action still escaped Harry's grasp, slipping and sliding away every time he tried to probe his mind for answers, but the knowledge of Voldemort's arrival at Privet Drive remained.

It occurred to Harry, with more than a hint of bemusement, that his psyche was acting like the giant squid did when it was sulking - settling deep in the lake's waters and coming up only when it was absolutely ready.

Well, okay then. Harry could wait. He had other reemerging facts to attend to. Because Harry was pretty sure he had escaped Voldemort and his lackeys.

Pretty sure. Mostly sure. That is to say, Harry really, _really_ hoped he wasn't just making that up.

Which left Harry mulling over the last, and most mind boggling idea of all. That he had escaped, _because Dudley had helped him_.

Weird.

***

Salazar had come to the careful and thoroughly considered deduction that his soul mate was a dud.

Perhaps his magic had simply found the wrong person, or since Salazar found the idea of his magic not working highly unlikely, perhaps whatever had landed his boy in a ditch had permanently damaged the child. Either way, Salazar was having serious doubts as to whether or not he should go through with his plan.

If there was a god out there, as the imbecilic muggles were always insisting, then Salazar was sure he was laughing. After all of Salazar's searching and waiting it seemed painfully ironic that this_ creature_ was what he got.

After all, what sort of person wakes up, takes in his surroundings and then promptly closes his eyes and starts muttering to himself? The long exaggerated breathing that followed only made the situation stranger.

Salazar was reduced to desperately hoping the boy wasn't trying to fake sleep. No one could be that stupid.

And Karma simply couldn't be that cruel.

These gloomy thoughts could have continued indefinitely, but at that moment Salazar's dud of a soul mate choose to sit up, and stare straight at Salazar, his large green eyes lit with suspicion and surprise.

And for a moment the world stopped, as Salazar gazed with perplexed amazement at the most wondrous thing he had ever seen.

It was possible that the muggles were right.

* * *

Hi everybody! I hope this newest installation was up to snuff. I want to give a quick 'thanks' to all the people who reviewed, and the many who put in alerts or favorites...It rocked my socks off!

Just as a side note (to fulfill the nerd within) the bases in Salazar's potion were picked for a reason, one for life, one for death....anybody know which is which?

And for the next chapter? Dialogue!!!

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing....

Warning: Slash, AU after 4th book, Time travel

Thanks again to breuddwydioxz for being such a wonderful beta.

* * *

"Umm....Hi?"

Harry twitched self consciously, more than a little bit unnerved.

Only a few minutes ago Harry had still been laying down, dreading the time when he would be forced to open his eyes and look at the new horrors that doubtlessly awaited him.

He hadn't exactly been optimistic.

But nothing had come to disturb Harry from his fragile peace. No sudden explosion or flashes of pain. In fact, Harry's scar didn't even hurt. After a while just laying there became boring.

And so it was boredom, not a sudden surge of courage, that had Harry sitting up and staring into the eyes of a stranger.

A stranger who had stared right back. Who, minutes later, was _still_ staring back.

Creeper.

On the other hand the strange man was also not trying to kill him, so perhaps allowances should be made.

Gulping, Harry tried again, "Hi? I'm Harry...._Who are you_?"

At this the man smiled, a slow, dreamy expression that seemed to creep onto his face, surprising them both. In spite of himself Harry gave a small grin back, and then sheepishly looked down at his hands.

He had to remember that smiling at perspective enemies was a no-no. Sometimes it aggravated them, sometimes it encouraged them...but mostly it was just not done.

Still...for a perspective baddie, he sure did have a nice smile.

Harry was torn from his musings when the strange man began to speak. And it didn't sound like he was speaking English either.

Harry shook his head helplessly and gave a little shrug, the international sign of 'huh' that even the strange man seemed to get.

This didn't seem to deter him though; if anything the man's smile got brighter.

***

He didn't speak English.

Glee welled up from the bottom of Salazar's stomach, threatening to pour over into unrestrained laughter.

He didn't _understand_ English.

Another burst of joy accompanied this thought. Salazar found he had to suppress the urge to dance and shout with glee. And Godric thought he was too solemn. When something good happened he was perfectly capable of being happy. Right now he felt downright chipper.

Because this, _this_ was good news. His boy would be so much easier to control, so much more dependent on Salazar with language as a barrier between him and the rest of the world. He would need Salazar for...well everything. And that was just how Salazar liked it.

Still, for now the language barrier was a hindrance. The spell Salazar was about to attempt was difficult, to say the least. It was magick at its most wonderful and most terrible, which meant it came with a rulebook too heavy for one man to lift.

One of them was that the child had to understand.

Oh, he could be tricked, that was practically a given. However, he could not be lied to. And, according to this particular sort of magick, speaking in a foreign tongue was akin to lying.

Which meant that certain actions were now necessary.

Sitting on his haunches Salazar shifted carefully, eyes never leaving his boy's, smile still on his face.

And slowly, oh so slowly, Salazar's hand went back to grip the hard wood of his wand. Before him the young man flinched, alarm painted across his face as his small hands scrabbled across the ground, looking for a weapon. When Salazar's wand came into view the young man's eyes widened further, and then in a flash hardened, as his hands still frantically searched.

So he _was_ a wizard. Satisfaction surged through Salazar, a hint of a smirk now edging his lips. There were occasions when Salazar did not find himself completely discontent with the world at large. Today might end up being one of those days.

***

Sometimes, late at night when no one was around Harry thought about _Those Days_. The ones that changed everything. The ones where Voldemort, Dumbledore, or the Dursleys rocked the foundation of Harry's world. They weren't always bad, _Those Days_, but they were always frightening, terrifying even, in the way only the unknown could be. The future was always a scary thing.

The worst part about _Those Days_ wasn't the nagging question of whether Harry would live through them (though he did consider that a viable concern). No, the worst part was that feeling in the pit of his stomach, like a coiling of unfriendly snakes, their scales rasping against each other until Harry felt nauseous.

He had that feeling now.

The strange man had his wand out, its dark wood flashing in the early morning sun, and Harry had to wonder if he was going to die.

But instead something like a small miracle happened. The wand turned away. No longer pointing at Harry it instead went up against the man's throat, just under the tip of his Adam's apple. Softly, three words were spoken, the man's dark eyes still bearing down on Harry's.

And then the strange man began to speak.

* * *

Hi! I want to thank everybody who reviewed last chapter...it was _wonderful_. Among those reviews were three that I have to mention.

First off Rae 0 and Durwen figured out what yew and blue cohosh represent and excentrykemuse who came up with the coolest idea that I wasn't smart enough to think up. Check out the review page to see her ideas!

Next up- Salazar plays evil nurse maid and Harry eats stew

Okay, I'll stop rambling now.

Thanks again, and please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Isn't mine folks...sad but true.

Warning: Slash, AU after 4th book, Time travel

Many thanks to breuddwydioxz who, once again, was fantastic.

* * *

"I am Salazar."

The boy blinked, his mouth falling open in a very unappealing manner.

"And you are?"

His fiance blinked again. Clearly this was going to take a while.

"I found you in a ditch. Would you be so kind as to inform me of your name?"

"A ditch? You found me in a ditch?" The boys voice went up an octave in surprise. Yet another unattractive trait Salazar would have to train out of him.

Lovely.

With a sigh Salazar tried again. This time he would use smaller words. "What is your name?"

There. He had used hand signals too. Now the boy would tell him his name. The spell's first requirement would finally be complete.

"Harry...Harry Potter. But a ditch? Seriously? How did I get there? Where is here?" Open panic could now be heard in his boy's...Harry's voice. The child's clenched fingers were cutting crescent moons into his own palm, and Salazar wrinkled his nose. Self-mutilation was never attractive.

For a moment longer Harry remained silent, lost in his own inner hysteria, then, "Oh God, you're one of them aren't you?"

"One of who?" This conversation was verging on inane.

"You're a Death Eater. One of _his_ minions." Loathing could be heard now, strong and clear. Salazar thought he was rather cute like this- green eye's narrowed and blazing, cheeks flushed with anger, or maybe fever. It was hard to tell. Either way the boy made a lovely picture. If only he would stop saying such offensive things.

"I am no one's minion. Certainly not for anyone who calls himself a Death Eater. That name is asinine." Salazar delivered this strictly, but in a calm voice. His fiance didn't look like he could handle much more excitement.

"Oh." The boy's anger faded but his flush did not. Definitely fever then."That's good, I guess." Rubbing his eyes weakly Harry managed a murmured "I don't feel very good do I?" and Salazar could not stop the smile from tugging on his lips.

"In all probability no. Too much time in a ditch will do that." Without a thought Salazar smoothed down one of Harry's curls. "Sleep now. You need it."

Blurry green eyes blinked up at him. "Yeah. Sleep. Good."

A faint smile remained on Salazar's lips. Harry was rather sweet with a fever. Malleable and sweet. Salazar was loathed to prolong Harry's illness but it did make manipulating the boy much easier. Perhaps he could give him something to relieve the fever but not to cure it. Not, at least, until the final step was complete.

Salazar watched as Harry settled back into his sleeping roll, and drifted off. Quietly he rose, moving to the stones that surrounded his campsite, stopping by each to utter Harry's name.

He was so close now.

* * *

The first time Harry woke it was to a pounding headache and a voice insisting he drink. He opened his mouth without thought, only to regret it moments later. Whatever he had just imbibed was foul to a level Snape could only dream of reaching.

Only as he slid back into a gentle slumber did Harry noticed that his head didn't hurt quiet so much anymore.

The second time Harry regained consciousness only because there was no other choice. He really had to pee.

Harry didn't really want to get up. His eyes were gritty with sleep and the rest of him wasn't feeling too hot either. Unfortunately, all of that was quickly becoming irrelevant. Screw his brain, Harry's bladder was now the dominant organ.

More by feel than anything else Harry began to move forward. He was in a forest. There had to be a decent tree to piss behind. He'd know it when he ran into it.

This plan, labeled brilliant by Harry's fever addled mind, was doomed to failure. As soon as Harry reached the edge of the campsite he was halted. Something was stopping him from getting out. Something wasn't going to let him pee!

His hands went up, ready to beat the shitty little force field into submission if he had to, when something caught at his hand. Make that some_one_.

Harry whirled to face his captor. When he saw who it was he froze. Feverish though he was, Harry still remembered Salazar. He remembered that the guy had a nice smile and weird name and was sort of intrinsically creepy. He remembered that Salazar wasn't a Death Eater. So what the hell was with the force field?

"I must ask that you desist." Salazar's voice was smooth and pleasing, but Harry wasn't in the mood to be pleased. He really had to pee.

"What?" Harry scrubbed a gritty hand over his face. "Look, who the hell are you again? And why can't I get out? And where the bloody buggery am I suppose to pee?" With each question Harry's voice rose.

"You wish to relieve yourself?" The man looked faintly bemused. Before Harry could get too pissed off at that Salazar moved to support him, bracing his shoulders up and intertwining their arms.

"I will escort you to the lavatory. Although I'm afraid it is simply a pit."

Harry blinked and nodded dumbly while the man continued talking.

" I am, to reiterate, Salazar. I found you in a ditch." Salazar smiled a little at this, in a way that suggested being found in a ditch had been Harry's very unclever idea, one which Harry would not be repeating again.

Harry wasn't sure he liked that smile.

"And the shield around the camp is absolutely necessary. These are dangerous times, precautions are needed." Another small smile was launched at Harry. One he liked much better.

Salazar continued, "I for one don't want to die out here."

Still smiling Salazar stopped walking to gesture at freshly dug pit which had been carefully concealed behind a bush."I will leave you to this. I have supper ready if your interested and more willow bark to keep the fever down."

And with a graceful nod Salazar left Harry to pee.

* * *

Harry was warm. And he didn't mean that he was snug from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, though there certainly was that.

Harry_ felt_ warm.

He'd forgotten, as he always did after a long summer at the Dursleys, how nice it was to be in the company of someone kind. Someone who liked you. And Salazar, did seem to genuinely like Harry.

When Harry had finished... "relieving himself" Salazar had been there, ready with blankets and a cup of tea that made Harry feel almost human. Then Salazar gave him _stew_. Harry couldn't remember anything tasting quite so good.

And all the while Salazar talked, lightly and with ease, answering Harry's questions until he almost felt safe.

"Your parents named you Salazar?" Harry laughed a little but stopped when he caught the look on the strangers face; Salazar's face. He actually seemed quite offended.

Someday Harry was going to have to learn to think before he spoke.

"Sorry. I didn't mean it's a bad name or anything. Just, well, Salazar Slytherin and all, right? Not exactly the easiest guy to be named after."

Salazar blinked, and then said in a rather flat voice, "Quite."

Harry's warm feeling was ebbing away already. It figured that the moment Harry found someone who liked him, Harry would stick his foot in his mouth.

"I am sorry! Really-. " Harry paused trying to pull himself together. It was kind of weird how he was already groveling to get this guy to like him. But for some reason it was vitally important that he did.

"Ummm, maybe I could have more soup?" Harry flushed a little and held out his bowl. "It's really good."

Finally Salazar smiled "Of course."

* * *

Many thanks to all the readers and reviewers. I'm sorry I'm such a slow writer but I promise -I will finish this story.

The next update should come in around August. And my lovely beta has made me promise it will be longer! (You may want to thank her).

Please review!


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